Kim nodded, barely acknowledging her exit, even as he was giving his excuses to Carme and Felipa:
“Monday, I promise we’ll do lunch Monday. Shall we head upstairs, Dídac?”
Dídac followed Kim upstairs, expecting him to stop on the office floor. Instead, he kept climbing the narrower stairs to the floor above, where the Reading Room was. But at the top, he tried the door on the right. It opened, and Dídac followed him in. They were in a largish room, chocked with old furniture, costumes and properties. Curtains across the windows kept the space dim.
“So this is where the ghost lives?” Kim asked.
“Margarida Xirgu?” Dídac chuckled. “Possibly. So they told you about her?”
“Laia did. I would have loved to have met her… in life.”
Then Kim and Dídac came toward each other in a hug, their lips meeting and pressing together passionately. Dídac inhaled and once more his nostrils were full of Kim’s scent, which he had been dreaming about all night. It was no longer the heady mix of cologne, sweat, body odors, and sex he had been drunk on last night—now it was mainly sweat, mixed merely with a strong deodorant. But it was still Kim, Kim, Kim… his director, the actor responsible for his choice of career, the man who had commanded him to strip, and kneel; the man who had entered him and fucked him hard, making him cum like he never had before; the man who had held him in his arms and told him he adored him. Or had he imagined that bit? He’d told him he wanted him, anyway.
His hands explored Kim’s body, before finding his shirt hem and tugging it violently up his torso. Kim stepped away for a moment, gazing into Dídac’s eyes, gaging his passion. Then with a swift movement he pulled his own shirt off, letting it fall, before grabbing Dídac’s, and wrestling it off over his head. They slammed together, bare-chested, arms wrapped tight around each other. Kim leaned in and inhaled Dídac, sighing. His tongue once again dropped to Dídac’s neck,beginning to lick the sweat from Dídac’s skin. Dídac bared his throat under Kim’s attack. It was a mimicry of the way they had come together the night before, and it felt like no time had passed since they’d been together on that summer-perfumed terrace under the full moon.
But then Kim roughly turned Dídac, so that he was facing away from him. Hugging him from behind he continued to attack Dídac’s neck with his tongue and lips, his nose sunk in the thick dark curls on the nape of Dídac’s neck. Dídac was whimpering, trying not to groan any louder, which might alert the people working in the offices a floor below. Then Kim was fumbling roughly with Dídac’s belt, undoing it and his flies, before pulling his jeans forcefully down his thighs.
“Ah, I thought you were wearing a belt!”
“I didn’t want to risk another erection in the rehearsal room.”
“Yes, that may be a problem from here on in.”
But the last part of Kim’s words were lost as he wrenched the dancer’s belt roughly down, and pushed his face between Dídac’s buttocks, tongue once again straining forward. Dídac spread his thighs to accommodate the intrusion, then grasped a dusty mannequin, bent over and pushed his hips back into Kim’s face. His ass cheeks were like two dark furred peaches before Kim’s face, waiting to be plucked. Kim’s hands kneaded them urgently, as his tongue worked deep into Dídac’s ass. Dídac groaned, unable to help himself. Then Kim was standing, spitting on his dick, working the head against Dídac’s asshole, pushing in, claiming him, his hands cupping Dídac’s pecs, squeezing the nipples, pinching and pulling them. Dídac moaned, pushing back onto Kim’s hard cock. They began to rock into each other, relishing the heat and feel of the other’s body. All Kim could think about was plunging deeper and deeper inside Dídac’s tight hole, while Dídac needed to feel Kim’s hard length sliding up to its hilt inside him. Dídac felt Kim’sbreath on the nape of his neck, and then the director closed his mouth over his trapezius muscle, gently sinking his teeth into the skin. Dídac sighed, pushing back into him.
“Fuck me harder, Kim,” he breathed. “I’ve missed you so much.”
And he had. Since leaving Kim’s hotel last night, nothing had occupied his thoughts except the director, and when he might once again wrap his arms around him, or be held in his embrace. Nothing like this had happened before. No one had meant this much. His lightest touch was capable of acting like a padlock on Dídac’s will, rendering him incapable of disobeying, compelling him to turn, and respond, to do whatever Kim might decide.
Kim’s breath was coming more hoarsely. With each breath he thrust more forcefully into Dídac’s ass, his teeth clamping tighter into that band of muscle on Dídac’s neck. And it felt so good. Dídac did not want him to stop, even though the pain was intense, and he’d probably leave a mark. It was a good pain. He felt wanted, loved… free… and at the same time protected by this man. But he could feel Kim was getting close. Like a wolf, the animal was taking over, the beast dominating the man. Dídac took hold of himself and began to pull himself off in time to Kim’s thrusts. His panting breath, gaining in volume in a regular rhythm, became groans—louder and louder. Kim moved his right hand from Dídac’s pec, up to his mouth, clamping his fingers tight across Dídac’s jaw to shut him up. At that, Dídac stuck out his tongue, beginning to lick Kim’s fingers eagerly.
“Oh, Dídac…” Kim panted. “I need… I need you… I just… need you!”
And with that he began to come uncontrollably—loudly, which he quickly stifled. Wrapping his arms around Dídac, he hugged him to his body. Dídac grabbed Kim behind him with his free arm, embracinghim, as he too came, splattering the mannequin before him with his cum.
“Ah…. Kim! I…” But he stifled the words he wanted to utter even as they rose in his throat. Too soon. A warning sixth sense clamped its hand around his vocal chords, even as he wanted to scream what was in his heart. Instead, what came out a bit lamely was: “You… I… Me too!”
They collapsed together against the mannequin, panting.
“Oh God, did anyone hear?” Kim whispered.
“Who cares!”
Kim eased himself out of Dídac and turned the other to face him, enclosing him in his arms.
“I meant what I said: I want you in my life.”
Dídac smiled like the sun for a brief instant, his face open and suffused with an emotion that looked as close to pure happiness as Kim had ever seen him. But then a cloud passed across his features and he flicked his eyes away.
“You’re leaving after this production. Where, Manchester, is it? Let’s… not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Ah, no… of course. I didn’t mean… OK, yes, I shouldn’t have said that. But… can you at least take me someplace decent for lunch? My shout this time.”
Dídac’s smile returned, now coy, though it revealed a small curl of growing trust.
“I can do that. What’s your fancy?”
Kim’s eyes feasted on Dídac’s sweaty body, held tightly in his secure embrace, and he didn’t need to say a thing for the other to know where his tastes lay.
